Frozen Yogurt
by Andettan
Summary: It's been a tough few years for Team Phantom. Either they adapt or they die, so they've been forced to shape up. When the trio hear about a mandatory class field trip to the Ghost Zone, they're experienced enough to know things will go horribly wrong. Struggling to keep Danny's secret and everyone else alive, the trio try to get home and back to their familiar, tasty frozen yogurt.


**Frozen Yogurt (re-write)**

**A/N: To the people who were waiting for me to continue my first version of this story, I'm so sorry. Life's been really rough lately and I've been incredibly busy up until now. But now I have plenty of time and I'm going to do a re-vamped version now that my writing's improved. A lot of things are gonna be different. **

**Chapter 1: Frozen Yogurt**

"That'll be twenty dollars and fifty seven cents."

"_What?!_ Are you kidding me?"

"Sorry, kid. I'm not in charge of prices."

"Ugh, alright. C'mon Tuck, let's head back to the table. Sam'll be pissed if she doesn't get some frozen yogurt soon."

"Sure, man. But put your wallet away, I know you're a bit short on change right now. It's on me today, dude."

"Thanks Tuck."

Three years of high school, but some things never change. Tucker always had his back. To be honest Danny was surprised that they'd survived for this long, what with them putting their lives at risk on a daily basis. But honestly, he wouldn't change a thing. Especially not the new frozen yogurt shop in Amity Park.

Danny shook himself out of his thoughts as they neared the table. Sam was sitting there, as beautiful as ever. He slid down the booth next to her and put the tray he'd been carrying on the table. The springy material of he seat squeaked as Tucker sat across them.

"A small, ultra-recyclo-vegetarian frozen yogurt with plum flavoring for my lovely lady," announced Danny.

Sam leaned on his shoulder. "Thanks, Danny," she said with a smile.

Danny gave her a goofy grin, unable to take his eyes off of his girlfriend's ectoplasm-green colored lips.

After freshman year, Sam had changed her entire wardrobe. She'd made a rather sudden jump from goth, to a more vibrant, punk fashion, saying that it suited her much better. After first seeing her tight, distressed black jeans and neon orange crop-top with suspenders, he could only stammer that he completely agreed. And wow did her legs look like they went on forever. And her long black hair looked _stunning_ after she'd dyed the ends with a bright turquoise color. She was just _amazing_.

Seeing that Danny was still staring goofily at her long after her and Tucker had dug into their frozen yogurt, Sam blushed and felt another smile tugging at her lips. Danny and her had gotten together during sophomore year, to the general surprise of no one.

Tucker cleared his throat, snapping Danny out of his glassy-eyed, sappy look. He blushed and rubbed his neck, embarrassed at being caught staring. He proceeded to shove a spoonful of pineapple flavored frozen yogurt in his mouth to avoid further embarrassment.

"_Anyways_," smirked Tucker. "What are we gonna do about that field trip tomorrow, guys?" his voice took on a more worried tone.

Danny groaned. "Ugh, don't remind me. I'm trying _not_ to think about that upcoming train wreck right now, Tuck."

Sam gave him an annoyed look. "Danny, our entire English class is going on a trip to the ghost zone. There's _no way_ that it won't go wrong. We need to be prepared."

"_Alright_, alright. Let's plan then."

Neither of them missed Danny's sullen tone, but it was all in good fun, so Sam and Tucker just smirked. Tucker mimed flicking a whip and made a mocking cracking sound, earning him a dirty look from his best friend.

"Okay, so I say, we bring out the big guns. _Anything_ could happen, after all."

* * *

Tucker woke up with a start, his alarm clock's glow lighting up the dim room. It was five in the morning. D-Day. 'Better get to work,' he thought. He threw back his covers, and slipped on his glasses. They were a new prescription, so they were a bit slimmer than before, but he'd gotten a squared frame to keep things familiar. After flipping his light switch, he ambled tiredly towards his closet. He pushed aside the clothes hanging on the rack, revealing a large safe set in the wall.

Tucker placed his hand on the scanner to it's right, half asleep still. It was all routine at this point. A yawn crept up on him as the safe gave a soft ping and swung open. He moved aside all the usual gear and reached toward the very back, where his emergency-ghost-zone-visit items were stashed.

He changed drowsily into a thick dark gray pair of jeans. He pulled on socks and sturdy brown boots. They were originally just plain leather, but Tucker had added steel to the front area and the soles. It had slight traces of ectoranium in it, so kicking away ghosts was made _way_ easier. Feeling more awake than he had a few minutes prior, Tucker paused in front of the mirror to admire himself.

"_Damn_, me. You look _good_." He shot finger guns at his reflection and clicked his tongue.

Tucker had in fact drastically changed his look since freshman year. His favorite beret was destroyed in a ghost fight, and after a good, long mourning period, he'd decided to just grow out his hair. Now he wore it in short, messy, thick dreads, tinged a red so dark it looked black unless he was in the sun. The red strap of fabric that was left of his his lucky token he wore tied around his wrist, as he'd been unwilling to part with it. It seemed only right that he keep on wearing it.

Tucker was also very much proud of his greatly improved physique. He wasn't buff by any stretch of the word, but he was very much fit, with a definition to his muscles that had been hard won after years of training in hand to hand combat with Sam. Looking at himself now, he was glad that she'd forced him to spar with her. He'd never looked better. Not that he'd ever admit that to her. She'd get _way_ too smug.

Turning from the mirror, Tucker threw on a pale yellow wife-beater. He put his leather shoulder holster on and strapped it. It crossed over on his back and had a pocket on each side for his two slim ectoguns, and clung tightly to his frame. He pulled a loose flannel shirt out from a hangar and buttoned it to conceal the straps of his holster. Tucker reached around in his closet to pull out his favorite leather jacket. It was solid black and had hidden pockets on the inside. Perfect for keeping his tech on him. Leaving it unzipped, he ran his fingers through his hair.

Tucker got out the belts he'd modified and slug them and tied them around his waist. They were leather with a conductive wire on the inside that allowed it to work like the old Fenton Specter-Deflectors when he pressed a button on the side. All the belts had small pockets attached, which held small vials of blood blossoms and spare knives and ecto-weapons.

He placed a modified watch on his free wrist, tied a loose red handkerchief around his neck, and slung the backpack he'd prepared the night before over his shoulder.

Tucker left his room and made his way downstairs quietly, trying not to wake his parents. He got a sticky note from the kitchen counter and a pen and wrote a short note to his parents explaining that he'd gone over to Danny's place and not to worry, that he'd get breakfast there. He opened the front door and took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. '_Off to Fentonworks_,' he thought.

* * *

Sam slowly drifted into consciousness, blinking drooping eyes at the dark ceiling above her. It took a while for her to consciously register the blaring alarm clock next to her. Groping blindly for the off switch, she smacked it into silence. Sam stretched out, her back arching and popping. Sighing in satisfaction, she claps the lights on in her room. Although she'd changed the scheme to better fit with her new style, it had already grown familiar after two years.

Sam gets reluctantly out of bed and glances towards her neon orange alarm clock. Five in the morning. She groaned quietly. '_I am most certainly not a morning person_,' she thinks. Well, there was work to be done. Walking stiffly to her closet, she looked around blearily for a suitable outfit. She grabbed a pair of mint colored skinny jeans with small metal skulls studding the pockets. Sam slipped them on absentmindedly. Rummaging through her shirts, she grabbed a comfortable maroon tank top. Remembering that she needed to get her supplies ready, she turned around and made her way back to the bed.

Kneeling down next to her bed, she slid out a thick cast-iron chest. Sliding the key that lay on her night stand closer, she grabbed it and unlocked the intricately engraved box. She got out a variety of weapons and lay them in a row on her bed. Standing up, Sam brushed herself off and went back to her closet. She grabbed what looked like normal, white leather suspenders and clipped them on with practiced ease. They actually were custom made to have a holster in the back. Sam grabbed the expandable ectoplasmic assault gun and worked the mechanisms around so that it folded, then promptly slid it into its place on her back.

Sam, feeling slightly more awake after moving around moved back to her closet and grabbed a loose electric blue hoodie with purple laces and trimming. She slid on her thickest combat boots. The soles were made of two inches of rubber, with metal embedded on the front and below. Neon green studs and spikes lay on straps that wrapped around the boots. She slid on the white leather gloves that Tucker had given her on her birthday last year. They were padded on the knuckles, which had short, but slim and sharp spikes made with an ectoranium-alloy.

Sam packed all of the smaller weapons into hidden pockets throughout her person and slid her iron chest back under her bed. As she walked out of her room, she grabbed the backpack she'd prepared the previous night and clapped the lights off.

Sam made her way to her private bathroom. She brushed her teeth quickly and put on some matte, neon orange lipstick. She subtly applied a bit of turquoise eyeliner and mascara, to match the highlights and ends of her otherwise pitch black hair. She quickly made a messy bun and secured it with an orange scrunchie. She admired herself for a short while in the mirror, proud that she'd grown son much in the past few years. While Tucker was the tallest, with Danny only two inches shorter, Sam was the shortest at 5'6". But still, she'd grown into some curves.

Sam looked at the mirror once more. After all, it's very important that she looks like an individual, but a particularly dangerous one. Otherwise, she'd have to deal with far too much disrespect from some pigs at school. Good thing they knew she wouldn't put up with any of that.

Sam left the house out her window. Her parents were the worst kind of morning people and would be waking up too soon for her liking. She wouldn't risk getting caught by going up the front door. Dropping onto the ground, Sam shifted her backpack and made her way to Fentonworks.

* * *

Danny woke up with a scream. Panting, he shivered at the memory of his dream. He calmed down slowly, taking deep, wavering breaths. He kept an ear out to see if anyone woke up from his yell. A minute passed in silence; he was in the clear. Danny's space-shuttle alarm clock read five in the morning. Groaning, he phased through his sheets and floated across the room to flip on his light. Checking that his door was locked, Danny went to his closet to get some clothes for the day. He grabbed a pair of red skinny jeans, some socks, a white wife-beater, and a change of underwear.

He phased through the wall to go straight into the bathroom. A warm shower later and Danny turned intangible, letting the water on his hair fall on the floor of the shower. Grinning, Danny ran his hands through his, now dry, black hair and shook it so that it looked awesomely messy (Or "adorably" messy according to Sam, but Danny _wasn't cute_, dammit. He was _cool_).

He changed into his clothes and phased back into his room. The sun was only just starting to come up. Whoops. Danny must've been in the shower longer than he thought. His friends would be there soon, seeing as they'd showered the night before. '_Damn my need to have long warm showers in the morning!_' thought Danny as he rushed over to his closet.

Danny pulled out a pair of sturdy dark green boots with white threads trimming it and brown laces that he quickly tied. He grabbed a couple of belts stocked with _tightly_ sealed flasks of blood blossoms and various ecto-guns and knives. He put his two favorite ecto-pistols in the small of his back tucked in his jeans. He shrugged on a hoodie that Sam got him for his birthday (It had a Danny Phantom logo on it. The irony was not lost on him) to cover the weapons. Danny grabbed the backpack he'd packed before going to bed last night and went downstairs. He could smell breakfast.


End file.
